Goodbyes: The Bitter and the Sweet

This has been a week of goodbyes.  As friends and classmates finish off their final exams, we say goodbye and leave the college for the summer or forever.  Today I've said goodbye to a lot of friends.  Sometimes we say, "Have a good summer.  See you in September!"  Other times we pause a bit longer and say, "Well, have a good summer.  I'm sure I'll see you around sometime."  And then there are the goodbyes that go something like this: "Well, have some good adventures.  All the best to you.  Maybe I'll see you again...maybe."  I've been dreading this week, rehearsing saying such things without awkwardness or tears.

I've always known that goodbyes are hard.  They can be bittersweet, but usually I find them to be more bitter than sweet.  In fact, this rash of goodbyes brings to memory another time when I said goodbye.  It was after my trip to Kenya.  All of us on the team had grown close and we were exchanging phone numbers and e-mail addresses as the airplane made it's final descent into Calgary.  Already we had said goodbye to our team leaders in Nairobi and to one member of our team in Amsterdam.  As various members of the team made plans with each other for road trips and visits, I sat slumped in my seat, dejected.  I figured I would never see most of these people again.  I was going home to the farm and they were going back to cities and towns across Canada, from Surrey, BC to Nackawic, NB.  My severely sleep-deprived brain could not fathom a situation in which I would see my friends again, except maybe the two from Edmonton.  Those goodbyes in the airport at Calgary were awfully bitter.  But, they didn't need to be.  I have lost count of the number of times that I have seen my Kenya team since then.  We don't always see each other all together, but there are weddings and road trips and other events where we gather and reminisce and make new memories.

I expected some of my goodbyes today to be bitter like those goodbyes in the Calgary airport were.  They weren't, though.  As I hugged my friends goodbye (yes, I hugged some of them), I realized that these goodbyes were actually rather sweet.  Of course, the "see-you-next-year" goodbyes were a piece of cake.  The other goodbyes, those to the friends that I don't know if or when I'll see them again, those were harder, but they weren't bitter.  I don't really know why.  Maybe it's because of the hope that I will see them again.  Maybe it's because I'm not quite so sleep deprived this time.  Or maybe it's because...well, I don't really know how to put it into words.  These friends, they taught me that I can make friends and that I can trust people.  They taught me that I don't have to hold on so tight to them because they'll hold on to me, too.  They taught me that I can let go without losing the people I'm letting go of.  And even if we only rarely see each other, it'll always be a happy reunion.  And...this seems strange to me, but I think was easier to say goodbye knowing that we'll all move on and make new friends and maybe even forget each other for a little while.  My friends here have taught me so much about friendship and including people and just living life with whoever is there right at that moment.  I'll miss them, yes, but the parting is much more sweet than bitter.

Farming: A Man's World? Yes.

I just read an article about actresses being asked questions that male actors would never be asked.  Next I skimmed an article about the use of male identifiers in the English language (i.e. mankind, guys, etc.).  After that I read an article about a Fox news anchor who criticize a colleague for telling women how to get a husband at the Masters.  I really don't know how I find this stuff.  This is procrastination at its best, I suppose.

Those articles got me thinking about myself and how I act and think.  In a previous post I talked about how I don't often let the men in my life help me with tasks.  Since then I've tried letting them help me more often.  I haven't gone soft and let them do everything, mind you.  I just let them carry the heavy stuff sometimes.  The other night the IVCF group at college had our end of the year wrap-up party.  I was in charge of getting groceries for supper.  I had already packed all of the groceries from the store to my truck, from my truck to my fridge, and then back from my fridge to my truck later in the day.  By the time I got to the farm where our party was, I was not about to touch those boxes and cooler again.  The girls who were with me were more than willing to take the boxes for me, but I stopped them and called a couple of the guys over instead to carry the stuff.  Why did I do that?  Was I taking advantage of chivalry?  Was I advancing the idea that women are weak and shouldn't have to do manual labour even if we want to?  I don't know.  All I know is that I wasn't about to carry those boxes again and that I figured I'd get the men to help with the heavy lifting one last time before they graduate.

I was pondering this event after reading those articles and that got me thinking about other posts I've written about farming as a woman.  I write rather a lot about that, don't I?  Curiously, those are some of my most popular posts...  Anyways, to get back to the topic at hand, I began to think about various arguments about women farming.  The phrase "a man's world" stuck in my mind and I immediately dismissed it.  After all, I've written at least one history paper that I remember about the important role that women have played in agriculture.  

After a bit more thought, though, I concluded that I may, perhaps, be wrong.  In fact, I am now convinced that farming now is a man's world.  That's not to say that women don't belong in agriculture.  Rather, I mean that agriculture is built for men nowadays.  My history classes have taught me that women began to be excluded from agricultural activities as technology began to make farming more efficient.  The equipment became larger and heavier, making it difficult for women, who are generally smaller and weaker than men (particularly those strapping farm boys), to operate the equipment, thus making their contributions to farming inefficient and unwanted.  Women became excluded from regular agricultural activity.  Without having to cater to the smaller size of women, companies making farm equipment continued to make it larger and more efficient.  Of course, there have always been a few women who remained involved in farming on the farm level.  However, I have found that today, most farm machinery, among other things, is built for the stature of the average man, which is a bit of a problem for a short girl like me.

I could launch into countless rants and long narratives right now to illustrate my point, but I shall attempt to resist.  Instead, I'll give a few brief examples of how short and average women are at a disadvantage using normal farm equipment.

  - On some grains bins, I can't climb to the very top because the ladder on the roof is too far away for me to reach.  Even on the ones I can get to the top of, it takes some fancy maneuvers to get my feet up onto the next rung of the ladder because they're spaced so far apart.

 - When I drive the tractor, my feet don't touch the floor.  In fact, they dangle several inches above it, even if the seat is put down as low as it goes (and that makes a very rough ride).  With my feet dangling and bouncing all day on the tractor, weighed down by my boots, my knees make sure I regret my career choice at the end of a long day.

 - I require the use of stools, step ladders, and acrobatic maneuvers I don't even realize I am capable of to reach to perform maintenance and other tasks on some equipment.  Putting twine in the baler, for example, can get rather interesting.

I won't go on.  Keep in mind that while it sounds like I am complaining, I'm really not.  Figuring out how to reach things is kind of fun sometimes.  And those grain bin ladders are just challenges that I intend to one day overcome.

Farming is a man's world because it was slowly built for men over hundreds of years.  This was not a conscious exclusion of women.  It simply came about through attempts to make farming more efficient.  However, we now have the technology to keep the efficiency and make agriculture more accessible to women, do we not?  And surely there are a few short men out there who would appreciate equipment sized to them.  I don't quite know what I'm suggesting, but perhaps there is a way to make farming more accessible to women (and short men).

Farming in a Technological World

Guess what I did today!  I used a GPS!

Okay, so I've used a GPS unit before.  It was a little hand held thing that I used to set way points around campus for an assignment in my Site Assessment Methods class.  The unit I used today was  a lightbar monitor that I used to drive a Gator along an AB line in my Mechanics class.  Even though I'm not really a fan of technology, that was pretty neat.

I guess I've been fighting technology for most of my life.  When I was younger, power tools scared me, so I would only ever use hand tools.  When my dad got a newer tractor that required me to flick a switch to change gears rather than using a stick shift, my mind was completely blown.  I still prefer to drive the old tractors.  A few years ago, my dad bought a tractor that came with a really simple lightbar GPS unit.  I have refused to use it.  I don't want lights flashing at me and buzzers beeping at me all day in the field!

This year I'm starting to see the usefulness of GPS technology.  I still have no desire to use the old lightbar unit in Dad's tractor, but if we had a newer unit with a monitor that we could use to record data and map fields, that would be pretty cool.  We could use the data and mapping to make the farm more efficient.

There is more than just GPS technology that is, for better or worse, invading farm life.  This spring my dad bought a camera system that will allow him to keep an eye on the cows from the TV during calving.  He says he'll set it up himself.  It comes with an instructional DVD, so that'll help...except that I forgot to leave instructions for how to operate the DVD player...sorry Dad.  If the camera system works it will mean that Dad can check the cows from inside the house on those cold nights instead of trudging outside late at night just to see if he needs to be out there.

And then there's the garage door opener.  I have a love-hate relationship with that thing.  It took half of forever to install, but at least it used up some rainy days.  It takes just the press of a button to open that huge door now, but you have find the right button.  The door basically closes by itself, but I have to stand there and watch it so it doesn't go back up if the dog runs under it.  And now we have another one to install.  Rainy days, here we come.

I think that sometimes non-farmers get offended when farmers bring out their technology.  Now, I'm not trying to make a broad, generalizing statement here.  I am saying that there are those who simply are not familiar with real-life farming and the only idea they have of farming is an old-fashioned, idyllic sort of lifestyle.  When these people realize that agriculture is an industry and that we are trying to be efficient, some of them get upset.  That's when we hear the outcry against "factory farms" and conventionally raised food.  I don't want to argue against all of the points of contention that come up in agriculture, but there is one point that I would like to make:

Farmers are human.  We need to eat, we need to pay our bills, and we need to take care of our families, just like everyone else.  Farming is how we make our living and we cannot provide food for the world if we cannot provide for ourselves.  There are such small margins in agriculture that we need to do whatever we can to make sure that we are still making money.  Farmers that destroy land, animals, and trust ruin it for the rest of us.  Those who farm in a sustainable manner while making use of all the technology available are the ones we need more of.

Dad's tractor with the GPS and switch to change gears.

Looking Forward

Most people who know me know that I'm a planner.  I'm organized and efficient and I don't really like to get off-track.  For years I've been able to look ahead to the future and say, "This is what I want to be doing next week, next month, next year, five years from now, etc."  My plans don't always turn out quite like I thought they would.  (According to my high school self, I should be teaching a high school math class right now.)  Even so, I can usually see where it is that I'm headed.

Right at this moment, though, everything ahead of me looks...empty.  There are no plans, not really.  Oh, sure, I'll be going home to work on the farm this summer and then I'll be back in Olds for my last year of college come September.  I'll graduate next spring and then go home and start to take over the farm.  That's my skeleton plan.  And that's about all I've got.  I can't figure out what any of that is actually going to look like, which is strange and unnerving for me.  I could list off the classes I'll be taking next year or talk about how involved I'll be in the IVCF group on campus, but even those are sort of scary unknowns.

Why?  Why can't I see ahead like I used to?  Maybe I've gotten wiser in the past few years and have learned not to count on my plans so much.  I mean, since I started post-secondary school I've changed my major or program four times!  I'm far from the person I thought I'd be, even back in September.  Besides, things can change quickly on the farm (or not at all), so farm life is all about being flexible.  Maybe I'm mellowing out in my "old age" and starting to let go of control in certain aspects of my life.  No.  That can't be it.  I still like being in control of my life and rather panic when I'm not.  Maybe...maybe I've finally started to understand that all the plans in the world don't mean a thing without people to share the future with.  I've starting building relationships, friendships with the people I've met here and I've begun to realize that I actually want them in my life.

There's just one problem.  They're leaving.  Not all of them, but a lot of them are graduating and moving on to other adventures and I can't imagine a future without them.  I can't imagine not having classes with them.  I can't imagine walking into Bible Study and not seeing their smiling faces or (in the case of the guys) their crazy antics.  Worst of all, I can't imagine meeting anyone new.

When I imagine my classes for next year, I see myself sitting with a lot of people who are in first year this year.  These are people that I didn't really get to know as well as the second years and somehow I can't imagine knowing them better, although I'm sure I will.  When I imagine Bible Study and other IVCF events, I see myself walking into a room with just a few people who are still around next year, sitting in a big, otherwise empty, room.  When I think about going to church I imagine sitting alone, much like I did at chapel when I went to school in Edmonton.

The logical part of my brain scoffs at those imaginings.  I know there will be other people who will come and somehow worm their way into my life and my heart.  And then there are those who are coming back, who have already become my friends.  Even so, when I look ahead, the future seems rather lonely at times.

That's what surprises me.  I've left people before and have had people leave me.  I've made friends and then left simply because it was time to leave.  The actual parting was often a bit uncomfortable, but I never really regretted moving on.  Now that it's once again time to say good bye to some dear friends, I find that this time it's different.  What did they do to me?  They made me care.  And now, like the Grinch, I'm...feeling.

The strangest part about all of this is that, even though I'm feeling a bit sad and sort of scared, I'm feeling excited, too.  Even though I can't imagine meeting anyone else or making any other friends, I know it'll happen.  Yes, looking forward will be a tad depressing at times, but it's also exciting.  I don't think I've ever really experienced that before.  I guess that's what happens when you let yourself open up to people.